


KiMa Week 2016

by QuantamTheory1



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, Gen, KiMa Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7443925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuantamTheory1/pseuds/QuantamTheory1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Submissions for the KiMa Week 2016 challenge. A banquet of silly, serious and stupid one-shots with a heaping helping of sex and innuendo.  Gratitude in advance for any reviews - they help so much in my constant revisions :)</p><p>FYI: Chapter 4 is rated M and is NSFW</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. King and Queen

**Author's Note:**

> As in all my stories, Kid and Maka are of legal age (at least where I live), and are having safe, consensual, sex.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #1 prompt for KiMa Week 2016. It takes two to tango at the Halloween Ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Errors0007 for suggesting the prom/dance theme, which totally got me out of a bind for the King & Queen prompt!

The minute her thigh slid between his, he knew why he'd never learned to tango.

He paused mid-turn, leaving Maka dangling precariously. She jerked her leg up for counterbalance, attempting to keep them from ending up on the ballroom floor. Again.

“Yikes! Do not,” she warned, wobbling, “make me bring this knee up any further!”

He felt said knee nudge him in a place that made her meaning abundantly clear and he hastened to correct their position.

“That's better. Don't make me damage the merchandise.” she whispered in his ear. He knew her teasing was meant to unnerve him and it worked. He was a far superior dancer, and competitive Maka would level the playing field any way she could.

“I’m not sure this is going to be appropriate.” he stammered, “Maybe something a little less....touchy?”

“It is fine. This is  _American_  tango,” the dance instructor said, “And a very basic one. Open embrace...perfectly appropriate for the Halloween Ball.”

His eyes sparkled as he adjusted their stance, “Argentinian tango, now that's another story. Very closed embrace. Very passionate. Very sexually tense.”

“This feels plenty tense, thanks.” Maka told him, clinging to Kid’s jacket as he steered her backwards across the shining floor. 

"Slow, slow, quick, quick,slow." he muttered, concentrating hard on his feet. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, wishing he’d say “no”. Then they could go back to reading together in front of the fire while the bright fall leaves fell past the leaded glass in The Gallows’ library windows.

“The King and Queen always do the first dance to open the Ball.” Kid sighed, knowing exactly what she was thinking,“It’s a tradition, and since we got voted in by a landslide we have to do it.”

“You know Kim and Black Star rigged the election, right? I just  _had_  to tell her I wasn’t running because I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of everybody. And I  _had_  to do it while Black Star was standing right there. He won’t admit it, but Soul helped, the traitor.”

“Liz was in on it too. She didn't just happen to have those horrible paper tiaras and all that confetti in her backpack when they announced the results.” Kid shuddered at the memory of being “crowned” in the middle of the cafeteria and spending an hour picking tiny bits of paper out his hair and clothes.

They stumbled and Maka held onto Kid for dear life, her knee threatening his crotch again. If he was still able to father children by the end of all this, he’d be pleasantly surprised.

“I do have to say this whole thing would be easier, and a lot more dignified, if we could just waltz.” Kid started off again, trying to keep his arms firm and his steps fluid.

“No way. You waltz better than most people walk, and I'm still a beginner. I'll look like an idiot out there. But neither of us knows how to tango.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, “So we'll both look like idiots, is that it?”

“Exactly.”

Maka giggled and he grinned at her, in spite of the fact that she was stepping on his foot for the fifteenth time. They broke form and the instructor clucked impatiently.

“I understand that Miss Albarn has never had formal training, but you are more than proficient, young Death. How is it that you don't know the tango?” he asked, aligning them once again.

“My mother taught me to dance,” Kid explained, “She said it wasn't proper for a mother to tango with her son.”

Maka was now stretched along his right thigh, breasts pressed against his chest.

“And now,” he gulped, “I know why.”

She felt his sudden arousal and her own flared up to meet it. Kid had a sudden vision of being “very sexually tense” on the dance floor in front of hundreds of people.

“You know, I think you had the right idea. Maybe we could abdicate or something?” he suggested.

“No way!” she exclaimed, trying to work her way through a tricky turn, “I wasn’t serious. Not  _very_ , anyway. If we quit, Black Star would never let us live it down. Do you really want to give him that kind of ammunition?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Me either.”

“Then let’s tango.”


	2. Overprotective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Day #2 prompt for KiMa Week 2016. Kid and Maka learning to mix personal concerns with professional ones.  
> This chapter rated T for mild gore and swearing.

"I'm not going to die." he insisted as she helped him ease into a chair. He looked, and felt, like the end might be upon him, but knew he wasn't in any real danger.

"You could have, though." Maka said tersely. Her hands shook like crazy; fueled by a potent combination of adrenaline, fear and anger. He felt them vibrating through his shirt as she crouched in front of him and undid the buttons. When she saw the wound under the blood-soaked fabric she covered her mouth and gave a muffled little scream. A spike of negative emotion rocketed through their soul bond and hit Kid like a brick wall.

"Can you tone it down, please?" he complained, "I don't need a headache on top of this."

"How can you not already have a headache?" she demanded, hands still clapped against lips that were swollen from a glancing blow during the fight, "There was a _hole_ in your forehead."

"It's gone now," he protested, swiping his hair back to show her. The white stripes that ringed his head were stained dark red, which did nothing to relieve Maka's anxiety.

"I don't care," she yelled, "I saw what it looked like. If that evil bastard got you a little deeper or ten inches lower..."

She broke off, fighting the tears that stung behind her eyes. Kid was looking at her like he had no idea what she was talking about and it made her angry enough to spit out the rest of her thought.

"Deeper or lower and it might have killed you. You shouldn't have done it."

Kid own anger rose, "I had to!"

"No you didn't! Black Star was on its left flank. You saw him coming in for the kill. You just had to get one more shot in, didn't you? This competition thing between you and Black Star is going to be the end of both of you."

"That kishin egg had time to finish its strike." he snapped, "and you were right in front of it."

Green eyes narrowed dangerously at him and little purple sparks of Reaper energy zipped over her fingernails.

"Don't you ever take a hit for me again," she warned, " _Ever_. I am not some weak little woman who needs protecting! I finally got Soul past that shit and now _you're_ going to start? I thought we agreed not to bring our relationship into the field so we won't be preoccupied and make bad decisions. Like the one you made today."

Kid's own hands and eyes started to glow, "So trying to save a teammate from being slaughtered in front of me makes me a _misogynist_ all of a sudden? I've taken hits for you before, and if I truly think it's necessary I'll do it again. That piece of my soul you have makes you a little more impervious than the the average human, but you can't survive what I can. Fuck political correctness. I won't take a chance on you dying just so I won't look like an overprotective boyfriend!"

Maka felt his anger rising to meet her own and a smoke-tinged cloud of purple started to fill the small space between them.  

"I had plenty of time to do a back roll and bring Soul up for a parry. A solid blow through the head or neck like that might have offed you even though you _are_ a Reaper!" Maka retorted, "And it still wouldn't have saved me, because I can't live without you. You're not allowed to take risks like that; not with yourself and not with the future Lord Death, and not with us, godammit! _Not with us_."

Giving voice to her worst fears extinguished her anger along with the sparks on her hands. She leaned forward and rested her head on his knee. Kid felt hot tears seep through his trouser leg, burning into his flesh like no wound ever could. 

"Now who's being overprotective?" he asked softly, feeling his own eyes grow wet. Ignoring the ache in his side, he pulled her up into his lap and hugged her tightly. Maka buried her dirty face in his shoulder and put her arms around him.

"Both of us." she sniffled, "I guess there's no way we're going to stop it, either, huh?"

"Nope. So let's not argue about it. As long as we don't put other members of the team in jeopardy or hold back in a fight, we'll take care of each other. If I watch out for you, it has nothing to do with my faith in your ability or your decisions. It has everything to do with not being able to live without you, either."

They snuggled together for a long moment, souls humming together in accord once more.

"Okay," Kid said when he had himself firmly under control again, "I have to get out of these clothes. They're disgusting."

"The rest of you isn't so great either. Maybe if you get all that blood off you won't look so terrifying."

Maka got up and helped him to his feet. He winced in pain when he stood and felt her worry return.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, helping him toward the bathroom where the soap and clean clothes beckoned.

"Yep. I'm pretty much healed up already. Just really sore and tired," he admitted.

Maka turned on the shower and started filling up the tub. It wasn't often that she threw responsibility aside, and rarer still that she interfered with Kid's duties as a Reaper. Today she was going to do both.

"I'm about to be overprotective again. Rinse that blood off and then you can have a long, hot bath. We'll eat dinner up here by ourselves and you're going to bed right after, even if the whole world's falling apart and you fail the Economics test tomorrow." she announced, busily gathering towels, Epsom salts and arnica from the linen closet.

"Only if you do the same, because you're worn out too. And you're almost as dirty as I am. Is it as deal?" Kid asked.

Maka stopped and gently pressed her bruised lips to his bloody ones.

"It's a deal."


	3. Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #3 prompt for KiMa Week 2016. Post-wedding silliness!  
> Rated T for a slightly suggestive ending.

“Ugh. I'm am sooooo tired.” Maka limped out of the bathroom, pulling an oversized pajama top over her head.

The owner of the pajamas put his book down on the nightstand and smiled sympathetically.

“Yeah, long day,” he agreed, “And I didn’t have to do it in heels. It looks like your feet hurt.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” she replied. Even though she’d kicked off her pretty, painful shoes for a while at the reception, her toes and heels were still protesting.

“Why don’t you come on up here and get off of them, then?” Kid patted the empty side of the bed encouragingly.

She collapsed beside him, sighing in relief as she sank into the soft mattress. He moved to the end of the bed and put her feet in his lap. Feeling truly loved, Maka thought, didn't come from candles, roses and big expensive gestures.  It was born in little things, like foot massages after a long party.

"You have to admit it was a great wedding, though." Kid said, "Except I think they're more fun for guys.  It's not fair, but all I had to do was put on my tux and show up when I was told to."

“I definitely got the short end of the stick today. Hair, makeup, pictures, flowers, table favors, that thing where the guy delivering the cake got lost…” she murmured, closing her eyes, “I had no idea weddings were this exhausting.”

“But it was worth it.” Kid tucked the covers around her and brushed her damp hair back, “I know the shoes sucked, but you were beautiful up on that altar.”

His voice was husky with emotion and Maka looked up tenderly at him.

“So did you. Better than me. Periwinkle is not my color. I was a bridesmaid nightmare.”

“You were gorgeous.” Kid insisted, “but I’m looking forward to seeing you up there in white some day.”

Maka took his hand from her hair and entwined her fingers with his. Even though they weren’t engaged, or even out of high school yet, they loved to share fantasies about being married. It was a goal to strive for; a beacon to home in on when life got too dark and deep. But after three whirlwind days of Marie and Stein’s wedding festivities, Maka was not in the mood for visions of annoyingly pouffy skirts, trip-hazard veils and ankle-twisting white satin shoes.

“Can’t we just elope?”

Kid laughed and kissed her cheek, “No way.”

She rolled over and wrapped herself around him.

“Pleeeaaase?” she mock begged, giggling against his chest.

“Nope. No sneaking away for us.  Even if we could, I wouldn’t want to. I want the whole world to know how lucky I am.”

“The whole world will _be_ there.” Maka groaned, “I only thought Miss Marie and Professor Stein’s wedding was big. Ours is going to have to be huge.”

“We’ll have all the help we want and you can wear flat shoes.” Kid promised.

“Good, because it’ll be insane. State occasion. Media circus. The future Lord of Death getting married. The receiving line will be three miles long.” Maka wondered if Doc Marten made boots in a nice, white lace.

Worry pinged in Kid’s chest “You won’t mind, will you?”

She felt his anxiety and immediately regretted teasing him so hard, “No, silly. I’m just joking. I know we have to have a big wedding and I promise I don’t mind.  I'll enjoy it when it's ours and I am more than happy to go through whatever it takes to be Mrs… _oh my God_!”

Maka shrieked in horror and sat bolt upright in bed, knocking Kid off of her and  into the pillows. Her soul sent a wave of pure distress through their bond.

“What was that for?” he yelped, “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve known you for years. I love you and we’ve been together almost a year and we want to get _married_ some day.”

Kid was absolutely bewildered.

“And this is a problem how?” he asked, struggling into a sitting position next to her.

“Because I just realized I have no idea what your last name is!” she cried, “I’m going to be Mrs. I-don’t-know-what! How can I not know my boyfriend’s last name?”

“I don’t have a last name.”

“Don’t be crazy. Everybody has a last name.” Maka insisted, looking at him like _he_ was the one acting demented.

“I don’t.” Kid shrugged. Many things bothered him about not being human, but this wasn't one of them.

“Well, what does it say on your driver’s license?” she demanded.

“It says ‘Death’” he said dryly, “That pretty much covers it all.”

“I thought that was your _first_ name! So I’ll be what...Mrs. Death?”

“Lady Death” he corrected, “I’ll be Lord Death someday and you’ll be Lady Death.”

“Well, you’re not yet, so what do I get called in the meantime?” she demanded, “And _Lady Death_?  That's your mom’s name. I don’t want people to think I'm married to your dad!”

Kid stroked her back and tried to soothe her rumpled wavelength with his own.

“You can always keep your current surname, you know.”

“I can?” she cracked a relieved smile, “There's not some kind of rule or something?”

“Not about that. My mother used her own last name when she felt it would be more appropriate. Lady Death will still be your official title, and you’ll have to go by it sometimes, but for everyday use, Miss Albarn will be fine.”

“ _Mrs._ Albarn.” Maka said firmly.

“Isn’t that _your_ mom’s name?” Kid felt it was safe to tease.

“Yeah, but I have a feeling she won’t mind me using the title. She hasn’t used “Mrs.” in front of her name since the divorce.”

“Well, that’s settled then.” Kid grinned at his girlfriend and she leaned over and kissed him.

“Sorry for freaking out,” Maka said as they turned out the lights and snuggled back into bed, “Just when I think I’ve got all this Reaper stuff figured out, something like this pops up.”

“We’ll figure it out together. And we’ll make up our own rules if we have to.” he mumbled, his lips moving delightfully against her throat.

“Okay,” she said, idly running her fingers through his hair, "But I think I’m done planning pretend weddings for tonight.”

Her nails felt divine against his scalp, she smelled like his favorite perfume and the curve of her waist beneath his silk pajama top was intoxicating. Kid pulled himself up on one elbow and leaned over her hopefully.

“Wanna play honeymoon instead?”

Maka shivered in anticipation, all thoughts of social anxiety and sore feet vanishing. 

“That,” she whispered, rolling him onto his back and climbing on top of him, “I can do.”


	4. All Alone Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #4 of KidMa Week 2016. Kid and Maka enjoying their Saturday morning "alone time".
> 
> Rated M for explicit sexual content - this one is NSFW, gang. If there's interest, I can finish it off (no pun intended) but totally ran out of time to do it today. As in all of my stories, Kid and Maka are of legal age for, and are participating in, safe consensual sex.

“Wake up, Kiddo.” her lips brushed his forehead. He smelled coffee and the citrusy scent of her freshly-washed hair, and Kid slowly opened his eyes to the welcome sight of his girlfriend bending over him, steaming cup in hand

“Good morning” he murmured; and it actually was. Weekend mornings were their alone time and Kid cherished them. He wasn’t expected down to breakfast, there was no school, and Patty had been threatened with dismemberment if she so much as set foot in the hallway to his room before 11am.

The sheets slid softly over his chest as he sat up, and Maka leaned in for a kiss. The neck of her robe gaped as she did and Kid got a peek at the bare skin underneath it.  Two years ago even his wildest fantasies couldn’t have produced a luscious, mostly-naked Maka Albarn bringing him coffee in bed. Two years and he still couldn’t believe his luck. Fate was purely delightful once in awhile.

“Are you hungry? I baked quiche for everybody. Thought I’d save Nadine some work this morning. I brought ours up here.” she said brightly, handing over the cup and perching on the edge of the bed. Kid glanced at the alarm clock. It was only eight-thirty.

“Quiche? How long have you been _up_?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her. He marveled once again at her ability to go from zero to a hundred first thing in the morning. It usually took him an hour and a staggering amount of coffee to think straight.

She shrugged, “Not too long. I put the quiche in the oven and went for a run. Only three miles, though.” she sounded faintly disgusted with herself.

“Only three miles? You slacker,” he teased, “Actually I’m surprised you made it that far.  Aren’t you sore after that thing we did last night?” Kid gave her an innuendo-filled smirk and sipped his coffee.

They never engaged in sexy banter in public. Their professional positions and natural sense of propriety forced them to be circumspect. Sometimes Maka envied their friends, who had a lot less restriction and let raunchy double-entendres fly without hesitation. Being able to indulge in teasing and taunting was another reason to love their alone time.

She took his cup and put it on the nightstand so she could snuggle up against him. He was sleep-warmed and relaxed against her, another benefit of weekend mornings. His wavelength was relaxed, something she dearly loved to see in her over-stressed, over-worked boyfriend. Frankly, she didn’t mind a little enforced weekly downtime, herself.

She returned his grin, “Nope. I’m tough. And ‘that thing’ last night was fun.”

“Sometimes I forget how flexible you are. Well, maybe after we eat I should do it again,” he suggested, reaching into her robe and gently teasing her nipple. She hummed in enjoyment and watched his erection stiffen under the sheet. 

"Or," she suggested, gliding her hand down, "I could do something else with this first. If you don't object."

Kid inhaled sharply when her fingers closed around him and gave her a long, deep  kiss, "I absolutely, utterly, sincerely have no objection. In fact, I may object if you don't."

She slid down and curled against his side, teasing him to distraction with lips and fingers before finally taking him into her mouth. Her motions were leisurely; a languid weekend-morning pace designed to please him without letting him finish. In five minutes she had him groaning, in just under ten he was begging, and he nearly died of frustration when she stopped altogether.  She gave him her patented Evil-Sexy-Maka grin.The grin that nobody saw but him and wouldn’t believe she was even capable of.

"Now what?" she teased, drawing a lazy pattern on his stomach with a fingertip, "Are you ready for breakfast?"

“Not even close,” his voice was low and needy. She squealed with delight as he dragged back up to his level. Kid stripped off her robe with practiced ease, leaving her stretched out on top of him in nothing but a pair of lace boy shorts. The underwear amused him. She almost always pulled on a pair before wandering around his suite or hopping into bed for the night otherwise naked. He found the eccentricity enticing and intriguing in equal measure.

“I have to ask,” he said between kisses, “Why you wear the panties. It’s not like you’re shy about being without them.”

“Because I know how much you like lingerie,” she replied, “These panties declare that I enthusiastically endorse and support your proclivities even though I’m too lazy to put on the matching bra right now.”

“That’s a lot for two ounces of green lace to say,” he gave her a light smack on the butt and she wriggled against him, encouraging him to do it again. He had certain other proclivities she also enthusiastically endorsed.

“Plus I really like it when you take them off of me.” she whispered. Kid felt her tongue stroke his earlobe and gave up. He wanted to say something witty about her own proclivities, but thinking wasn’t his strong suit at the moment. Besides, he had better things to be doing with his mouth right now. And his hands, come to think of it.

Alone time was definitely the best part of the week.


	5. Studying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #5 prompt for KiMa Week 2016. Studying, swimming pools and Reaper physics.

Kid peered at his study guide, but the light glancing off the water made it hard to read. On the other side of a table holding a stack of books and an elegant pitcher of fresh lemonade, Maka sifted through perfectly organized, highlighted and reference-tabbed notebooks.  Liz said that only a pair of true dorks would sit by the pool on a gorgeous spring day and _study_. Kid  reminded her that Lord Death had promised to ground her for the rest of her life if she flunked one more test. She’d called him a buzzkill, announced that she was going to study in the library like a _real_ scholar, and stomped off in a huff.  Kid was cheered by the thought of how ridiculous she must look in there while reviewing Modern Poetry in a purple bikini.

The wind ruffled his papers and brought him back to task. He shaded the study guide with his hand.

“Okay,” he asked, “Which two countries compromise what used to be known as Yugoslavia?”

“Bosnia and Herzegovina” came Maka’s prompt reply.

Kid frowned.

“Is that how you pronounce Herzegovina?” he asked.

She leaned back in her deck chair and took a sip of her lemonade.

“How should I know?”

“Let’s look it up.”

“We’ll do it later.” Maka made a careful note to ask Lord Death how the word was pronounced.  He would know.

“My turn,” she said, picking up their Physics textbook. Kid groaned.

“You know I hate physics.”

His girlfriend gave him a “don’t-mess-with-me look over the top of the book.

“Yes, I do, which is why you need to study it.”

“It doesn’t even _apply_ to me.” he protested

“What about gravity?” Gravity applies to you.”

“Most of the time.” Kid conceded, “But only when I want it to.” he added smugly, “Ditto the conservation of mass-energy and most of the laws of thermodynamics.”

Maka reached over and smacked him on the arm.

“Smartass. Exams are in three days and you need to know this, even if you flout _every_ rule of the natural world.”

Kid caught her hand and held it against his chest.

“You know what we really need to brush up on?” he asked, putting down his notes and sliding over onto her chair.

“What?”

“The law of attraction. ”

“Nice try,” she giggled, “But we’re studying now. Besides quantum chemistry and chemical thermodynamics have pretty much replaced that law. Work on those instead .”

Kid leaned in and kissed her neck. Her sunscreen didn’t taste all that good, but he didn’t let that stop him.

“What about the theory of manifestation?” he whispered into her ear, “The theory that I can make something physical happen just by thinking about it?”

He slipped a finger under the edge of her swimsuit, making it perfectly clear what kind of physical he was thinking about manifesting. Maka laughed harder and pushed him off of her.

“That’s not even a real thing, Slacker Boy. And no _physical manifestation_ for you until you get an A on this practice test. I can’t believe you’re trying to use pseudoscience to get out of studying. Sex, yes, but _pseudoscience_?”

“It was worth a try,” he grinned, hopping back into his own place and picking up his pencil, “And it’s not pseudoscience, by the way.”

Maka looked at him askance,“How do you figure that? It’s a completely insane, utterly false concept. Have you got sunstroke?”

He shot her a challenging smirk as he stood.

“Thought...” he announced, pointing to his head. Then he gestured and purple light flashed across the pool, accompanied by billowing black smoke.

“...And physical manifestation” Kid finished, indicating the large, framed mirror now floating just above the water. “I told you the laws of physics don’t apply to me.”

“Showoff.” Maka snorted, “You’re kind of right but you’re still a showoff.”

“This is something _you_ could use some study on,” he told her, pulling her to her feet, “We’ll have a little Reaper test here.  I put the mirror there...now you make it go away.”

“I suck at this,” she whined.  Using the bit of Kid’s soul that was blended with hers, Maka had had decent success using Reaper magic to power up a resonance. She was also getting pretty good at opening a portal with an existing mirror, but creating objects out of thin air and then making them disappear had, so far, eluded her.

She copied his movements, but was only able to produce a weak, pale and short-lived shimmer of energy.  The mirror rocked a little but remained perfectly solid.

Kid got behind her and put his arms over hers. He opened a resonance link and let his magic course through her.

“See? Like this,” he said, summoning up the appropriate power and setting it loose through their entwined fingers. The mirror disappeared as dramatically as it had entered.

“Ugh,” Maka exclaimed, shaking her wrists, “My hands itch.”

Kid rubbed them for her.

“The more you practice, the less that’ll happen.” he told her in a taunting fake-professor voice, “You’ve been neglecting your studies, Miss Albarn.  The theory of manifestation: you need to study, study, study it.”

Without warning Maka hipchecked him and sent him flying into the pool.

“What was that for?” he sputtered, surfacing and clawing his hair out of his eyes.

“A demonstration of Newton’s First Law of Motion. An object at rest tends to stay at rest unless acted upon by net force.” she replied, jumping into the cool water and embracing him, “Plus it’s really freaking hot out here. Now give me another review on the Law of Attraction.””

Five minutes later Liz, annoyed by their splashing and shrieking, appeared on the terrace.

“Nice,” she called, “You pick on me for not studying and the minute I turn my back you go make out in the pool!”

She didn’t believe them when they told her they were studying physics.


	6. Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #6 prompt for KiMa Week 2016. The day of Kid's investiture ceremony as the new Lord Death. One of several different scenarios I envision for Kid taking over for his father, and this is one of the more wistful ones.

She refused to stand with him on the platform during his investiture ceremony.

“I'll be in back with the students,” Maka told him, “I'm the head of Spartoi; I need to be with our team and lead the DWMA when we swear allegiance. I don’t have any business being up there with you. I’m not your wife. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

There was no malice in her tone. Just the usual kind earnestness she used when trying to explain hard realities. She sounded exactly the same way when handling students who were scared and questioning after their first reap. 

Kid was tempted to drop to one knee right then and there, but he knew she’d say “no” if he popped the question out of grief and need. 

“Besides, it’s important that you stand alone; that the world world sees you take the reins without showing any weakness. You can't let anybody wonder if you're going to hand over power or let yourself be influenced by me or anybody else.” Maka hated reminding him of grim facts, but she refused to give him anything but honesty and truth. To do less would make her a disloyal coward. 

“I know.” the new Lord Death grasped her hand and pulled it against the cheek he’d rested in her lap. Here, with her, he could fall apart. Be nothing more than a scared, brokenhearted boy faced with having to grow up too soon. Beyond the door to this room he had to be disciplined and strong; to be the self-assured leader his father would want him to be. It felt like a sham; a facade he was barely maintaining, and having her beside him would be a source of strength and comfort he desperately needed while his fate was made permanent. He tried another tack.

“Soul will be up there at the end of the ceremony. You’re his technician, it wouldn’t look all that strange for you to be with him.”

“Even though we're still partners, Soul officially belongs to you now,” Maka reminded him gently, knowing that it was another sore spot. One that was chafing her, too. Their designation as "personal weapons", meant Liz and Patty would be seated with Spartoi, not alongside him where he wanted them to be. Maka herself was distraught at having Soul taken from her even as a temporary, empty gesture. They'd all be back where they belonged tomorrow, but that didn't make getting through today any easier.

“Good thing you have to have a ceremonial scythe, and that your dad insisted on some training to go along with it. Otherwise we might not be together.” She said, trying to lighten the mood.

“I'm so grateful we are,” he said hoarsely, “I'm thankful for you every day. Every single day.”

Kid abruptly sat up and hugged her tightly, remembering how a screaming match during scythe practice led to their first kiss. He'd never forget the way her lips felt, how glorious it had been to finally hold her the way he'd wanted to for years.

“Same here. I love you, Kiddo."

She kissed him softly and it was balm to his troubled soul. He pulled her closer, his mouth hard and hungry on hers. Passion flared, fueled by a desire to drown himself in her. To forget, if just for a little while, what lay ahead for him. Maka started to melt against him, but forced herself to stop.  If she released the tension on her tightly coiled emotions she'd never get them back under control. She'd fall completely apart, and that was not what Kid needed right now.

“Later. There isn't time.” she gasped, stopping his hand's upward climb on her thigh.

He gave a little laugh that was devoid of humor and steeped in bitterness.

“We might never have our own time again. Not like we used to.” Kid pressed his palms against his eyes, “What's going to happen to us? What if you get tired of my life? There's always some crisis or obligation, some fucking  _demand_.”

His utter bleakness made Maka furious. 

“You listen to me,” she said, grabbing his hands and holding them fiercely, “We're in this together. I will _never_ walk away from you and I will always be right by your side.”

“Except for today.”

“I'll still be there. You carry a piece of my soul, remember? I don't need to be next to you; I'm already with you everywhere you go. And you're with me.” She opened herself up fully to their bond and resonated her soul with his. The connection was strong and solid, something both of them could cling to. It didn't erase their fear and uncertainty, but eased it as only true partnership can. 

“I'm leaving this link open. We need each other during the ceremony.” she said.

“I need you forever.” he replied, resting his forehead against hers.

“Forever is something we actually have,” she said, looking deeply into the golden eyes she loved so much,“And I get to spend mine with you.”

There was silence in the room as they bid goodbye to their old lives and prepared themselves for the new. Then the clock chimed, and change was upon them. A heavy cloak swished, and a mask clattered as it was lifted from the table. 

“It's time.” he said with renewed hope and vigor.

Her hand slipped into his.

“I'm right behind you.”


	7. Sticky Situation Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #7 prompt for KiMa Week 2016. Soul, muffins, and honey facials.
> 
> Rated T for implied adult themes and a few swear words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last entry for KiMa Week 2016. Sad to see it come to an end because I've enjoyed it so much this year. A huge thank you hug to everyone who read, and an extra one to the folks to took time our of their days to review or leave kudos. I appreciate the feedback so very much.
> 
> Finally, a HUGE thank you goes out to Errors0007 for organizing this event - you are simply wonderful!

The first thing Soul noticed when he got home was the spoon. It lay on the floor between the kitchen and the hallway; too far for it to have fallen off a counter or the table.

It stood out like a sore thumb, not just because it didn’t belong down there, but because nothing was _ever_ out of place in their house. The spoon clung to the tile when he picked it up, and Soul wrinkled his nose in distaste when he realized it was covered in honey. He carried the sticky utensil to the sink and perked up considerably when he saw a basket of freshly baked muffins on the counter. The kind he and Maka always ate with honey. There was a crumb-covered plate beside the basket, which explained the spoon, but not why it was halfway across the house. It didn’t explain why there was honey all over the counter, but no honey jar.

Maka had made muffins, eaten one, made a gooey mess and then disappeared?  Totally not like her. Then Soul remembered Liz telling a hilarious story about honey facials the day before. At least _he’d_ found it hilarious. Nobody else seemed to understand just how enchantingly funny the older Thompson sister was.

Now it all made made sense. Obviously his partner had, once again, come to grief while trying some kind of beautifying mess. Maka wasn’t so good with the girly stuff. She’d failed at bubble baths several times; foam crawling down the side of the tub and across the tile. She burned herself with curling irons, stabbed her eyes with mascara wands and, on one memorable occasion, glued her finger to her face in a fake fingernail mishap.

The last had given Soul taunting fodder for weeks.  He still brought it up occasionally because, in all honesty, that one was going to be funny _forever._ Honey wasn’t quite as permanent as glue, but getting a picture of her with goo all over her face would be priceless nevertheless.

He tiptoed over to her bedroom, pulled his phone out and turned the camera on. Holding it at the ready, he rapped on the door frame. 

‘Go ‘way.” came the muffled response.

“Maka,” he singsonged, “Maka-Maka-Maaaaaaka.”

He could keep that up all day.  And she knew he could.

The door opened a crack and when she peeked out, Soul snapped her picture.

“Soul! What the fuck?!” she shrieked, pushing the phone away.

While she was blinded by the flash, Soul got a good look at her face.  Sure enough, there was honey splotchily smeared across her face and over her mouth. It was in her bangs, too, and a good-sized dollop ran down her neck and disappeared beneath the collar of her bathrobe. She’d really done it this time.

“You said you’d be back just in time for us to go to the movies.” Maka exclaimed, blushing bright red, “You aren’t supposed to be home for an hour!”

“Yeah, well, you aren’t supposed to put condiments all over yourself. Does Kid know what kind of weird shit you do when he’s out of town?” he grinned and took another picture.

“Stop it!” she jerked backward and the door opened another fraction of an inch. Just far enough for Soul to see the jacket on the floor. Black. Tom Ford. Extremely distinctive white trim. His eyes widened in horror.

“He’s _not_ out of town yet, is he?”

It was Maka’s turn to look devious.  Two could play at the embarrass-your-best-friend game.

“Nope.”

“You’re _not_ doing a facial, are you?”.

“Nope.”

There was a noise from inside the bedroom; the sound of someone desperately trying to muffle inappropriate laughter over a kinky double-entendre.

“You be quiet!” Maka giggled over her shoulder. The snickering grew quieter, but didn’t stop altogether. 

“I baked muffins for you,” she explained to Soul, who was mute with shock, “And Kid came over to say goodbye and _you weren’t supposed to be home for an hour_.”

They stared at one another until Soul finally recovered his power of speech.

“I can never unthink this, you know.” he told her, “I’m never going to look at a muffin the same way again. You have scarred me for _life_.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “No I haven’t.”

“You did. I have a muffin trigger now.”

“Will your trauma be assuaged if I buy you an extra large popcorn at the theater?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

“And can you go away and come back at four-thirty?”  
  
“If you throw in a box of Milk Duds I can.”

 “Done!”

 Maka gave him an evil grin and prepared to play the trump card in their game. She casually turned back into her room and came back with a sticky container.

“Here, can you take this back to the kitchen for me?” she asked sweetly, handing it to him, “The lid’s on the table. See you in a little while.”

Her door closed only inches from Soul’s nose. A moment later there was low laughter and the sound that beds make when someone climbs into them.

Soul turned and wandered back to the kitchen, wide-eyed and stunned by Maka’s absolute victory.The combined sound of a moan and her headboard hitting the wall snapped him out of it. He looked back at the bedroom door and then at the jar in his hand.

“Ew. Eww. Fuck. E _wwww_!” he chucked the jar into the garbage like it was a live bomb, scrawled “honey” on the grocery list stuck to the refrigerator, and ran for his life.

 

 

 


End file.
